He’s gone again

S has officially moved out, sort of. The problem is he can’t really moved out, not when he never officially moved in. He just gradually bought more of his stuff and stopped more nights but the paperwork finally completed on his house and so he’s off. He stayed with my for a few days after completion where we cleaned like maniacs, at his place and the stopped at mine in the evening. Well when I say we cleaned like maniac’s I did, he did manly things like pulling down ceilings… don’t ask… but now, even without a fixed ceiling, he has taken up permanent residency at his. Although I do still seem to have most of his stuff at mine, but anyway.

It’s odd.

I miss him like crazy, which I knew I would, but it’s also odd that this house I viewed, then spent a week cleaning, carried hundreds of boxes into and have been involved in choosing paint and wallpaper and carpets and curtains and it’s not and never will be mine. It was somewhere in the middle of the cleaning week that it struck me for the first time, every time I visit I will drive away, back to my house, without him. One of my friends came up to help clean the house, and when I mentioned it him about her stopping the night he questioned why she would.

He’s got such amazing plans for the house, he wants to put in a loft extension, an upstairs bathroom, he is having a. man cave and his first purchase has been the most amazing rusty lampshades – ok I know they don’t sound nice, and between you and me he didn’t pick the nicest ones (I would have had these) but they are.  We spend our evenings talking about decorating. We spent and entire day in B & Q picking wallpaper and paint to match the lampshades and, because I got a little carried away, I also took him to Dunelm and the Range where we looking at curtains and cushions and VELUX blinds. I was very good and tried to support rather than over take. I keep telling myself this is about him and not me. But it’s very difficult on some levels it feels an awful lot like my house. Only it isn’t and it’s never going to be. The area is nice, the house is lovely but I want to raise my family, if it happens, in the country not in a city and the whole purpose of this house is that it is his. I have mine, which he knows will stay mine regardless of what. It is may fall back plan, and this house is his so it can’t become my house. But it’s a very odd feeling and although I know this is for the best, there is a small part of me that wishes he had refused to move out, and instead been happy to live with me forever.

Although, I know deep down that I didn’t want that. The problem is when he moved in, sort of, he didn’t. I didn’t have to compromise, I didn’t get rid of any of my stuff. All I did was empty a draw and try not to moan too much about his inability to wipe out the shower. He moved into my house. When we live together it has to be as equals. It has to be a house where we have an equal say in how it is decorated, when you look around the lounge and see his stuff mixed in with mine and I am not ready for that. Not yet. So we go back to living apart and a new chapter of my life starts.

*Please note this is a sponsored post. However, the complete inability to commit and decide what I want, and resentment and S choosing the wrong shades for his house, is completely mine 🙂

Procrastination at it’s finest

I should be cleaning my bedroom. You have no idea how badly I need to clean my room. I would take a picture to prove how bad a state my bedroom is currently in but I am too ashamed to let you see it. Just imagine boxes everywhere, then put a pile of half folded clothing on top of those boxes, two boxed up wardrobe doors, two bags still not unpacked from my recent last minute holiday and you will have an idea of how bad things are.

In my defence I have just given away one of the two free standing wardrobes I own(ed) and a blanket box to make room for my new fitted wardrobe that I have almost finished building. So I am not a complete slob. However, I do have charity peeps coming tomorrow to take the other wardrobe and a chest of drawers and some other bits coming to my house tomorrow morning so I should be cleaning and tidying like a loon.

So instead I am writing a blog post.

I have done some bits this morning, but I am being horrendously faffy. I have shredded some documents and gone through a big box of toiletries, which contains about 15 bottles of body cream, 9 half empty shampoo bottles (yet no conditioner) and makeup which I was given as a child and never use but can’t bring myself to throw out.

I have emptied the box onto the beds and made different piles but that’s about all I have managed.

A while ago I talked about the Marie Kondo folding and decluttering I was doing, and the fact I have too much stuff and this need to declutter is all a continuation of that. I have a tendency of bulk buying items to save money, which I then forget about and so never use, and that along with the house still not being finished so many things still not having a place to live, has me feeling a little like I am living with the walls closing in around me. So today Mum and I agreed that I would have the day at mine for me to sort my house (look at me finally finding me time) and instead I am writing a blog post. Oops.


Had you asked me before dad died, I would have told you what a close family we are. I mean know my sister and I would fight like cat and dog when we spent too long together, I would have always said I we were close and that no matter what happened I could rely on them.

Sadly, I now know that to not be true.

I continue to struggle with my sisters lack of willingness to take on any sort of care role for my mother, but today my blog post is not about that. it’s about my Aunty who, until last night, I would have said was more like a second mother to me and the one person in the world I can rely on and who really knows me. Turns out I was wrong.

I don’t regret giving up work to care for mum. However, since I gave up work the free time I had hoped I would gain hasn’t materialised. Lack of me time has been the only thing that mum and I argue about. I have taken to lying about when I need to leave her house in hope I can leave at a reasonable hour, and never knowing for definite when my next day off will be is really beginning to take it toll. However, despite all this I don’t regret it for a moment and even if I could go back in time, knowing everything I know now, I would still hand in my notice and take on this role.

My friends and S are constantly nagging at me about making more time for myself, they are worried I am going to have a nervous breakdown and so, this week, I booked the first week off since I gave up work in April. Or at least I tried, can’t find care cover for the full week so I am working Friday and as mum and I are heading off on “holiday’ next week together I am going to hers on Thursday morning to do a holiday shop and start her packing. But even so I am looking at the most time off I have ever had. This week was picked as it coincides with S’s holiday and so we were hoping we could spend some time together. Which we have but that’s another story.

I had managed the weekend and Monday, before I got a phone call from mum’s carer who had had a misunderstanding with Mum, who I then rang to find her in tears. In the end it has all worked out, but it was still an hour out of my day dealing with stresses and strains and work stuff. About 10 minutes after this phone call I get a text message from my Aunt, who was the reason for the misunderstanding between my mum and her carer, which reads a little like she is having a go. My friend decided it would be better for me to talk to her then try and converse over text so I give her a ring and she goes bat shit crazy at me. She tells me I am selfish, taking advantage of my mum and then hangs up on me as ‘she doesn’t want to get into an argument’ and between you and me. I think she was probably well aware that she doesn’t have a leg to stand on as every single time my mum or I have asked her for any support she has let us down. Every. Single. Time. Also, this is the Aunt who couldn’t be bothered to come up and for my mums birthday earlier in the year despite this being the first birthday since my dads death. She didn’t come and visit mum when she was in hospital last week, although did throw at me that mum being in hospital was my holiday (we will over look that on the Tuesday she was taken in I was with her from 1.30am to 5am, then back at 2.30 until 8pm and for the rest of the week I was with mum for the entirety of visiting hours. The only visitor she had for those days).

I will be honest. Her phone call and comments have hit me hard. My friend and S were fantastic. I have never seen S so mad and my friend turned to me and said “you do know she is wrong, don’t you?” but it hasn’t helped. It’s like she doesn’t know me, like she has never known me. There is no way I would do what she is accusing me off, I am not like that. And I don’t think I should feel guilty for wanting to take some time for me.

I think I am just going to have to accept that the close family I thought I grew up with has disintegrated following my dads death. But that’s easier said than done.

Remember me?

Hi Everyone, so sorry to have been MIA for quite so long. Long story short, I managed to lock myself out of my blog. Yep, I’m a natural blonde!! I am also very stubborn, and so instead of just hitting the ‘reset your password’ option I have literally spent months arguing with WordPress well, the login screen, I didn’t actually do anything productive and email a human. Nope, instead I decided it would be wise to just spend the time I had to sit I front of my computer typing in what I thought was my password over and over and over again in the hope that WordPress would admit defeat. Spoiler alert, it didn’t.

While I have been unable to access my blog I have still been writing, so there are a number of draft blog posts which I will hopefully schedule and sound out soon. I am currently typing on S’s laptop, and between you and me I can’t seem to make it do what I want it to. Maybe I need to have some lessons or something.

S is still around and still being an amazing source of support for me. I don’t quite know how he is still here. Others have walked away and they haven’t had to deal with 1/10th of what he has had to deal with. For the moment he is still staying with me, although he picks his keys up to his house today. I have very much mixed feelings about him going. I know he needs to, and I know it is right for our relationship, but it does still feel like a step backwards and there is a teeny tiny part of me that wanted him to not want to leave. I am trying to plan something lovely for him tonight to celebrate, but in the style of my life it’s not quite that simple…

Mum is back in hospital. She was admitted early Tuesday after some complications following a procedure she had on Monday and despite everyone telling us it would only be for the day, she’s still in four days later. She is now being seen by a different doctor who she was supposed to have an appointment with but decided to see her in while she was on the ward and now we can’t get her out. However, other than a few blips overall her care has been fantastic and so much better than previous hospitals she has been in. The only negative is that rather than being able to make the most of some down time I have spent most days by the phone waiting for them to call and tell me she is being released, afraid to start anything too major. I am also making sure I am spending all of visiting time with her so I don’t leave the hospital until 8pm every night.

The whole finding time for me thing still isn’t really happening. It’s something I have talked to my sister about. It did not go as I had hoped. However, I am trying very hard to focus on me, what I am doing and my growing relationship with my Mum and let me lack of free time worry me tomorrow. Plus everything is set to change in Sept when I look at returning to Uni. I know this is earlier than I had planned, but apparently as I have been out of academic study for so long (10 years – makes me feel ancient!) I have to do a year long access course. I am really looking forward to starting it, although I still haven’t finished applying for the course.

Poppy is still here. She has loved having S living with us. He spoilers her rotten and we will both be going on a strict diet when he moves out! I’d like to say she hasn’t been giving me any troubles but that would be a lie. As if I’m not dealing with enough the little love has an abscess and so she is on a long term course of antibiotics in an attempt to avoid surgery.

Right time to go, my wash load has finished. Honestly, you have no idea of the glamorous life I lead. I am going to attempt to get it on the line before the rain comes as for the last few weeks every time I have put in a wash load the heavens have opened before the load has finished and I have ended up with damp clothes around the house and there isn’t enough room for damp clothes, S, me, Poppy, and a half built bookshelf, which I started before Mum was taken into hospital. I also gave away one wardrobe, as I am determined to get my house finished, and so gave it to a friend in preparation for the arrival of the fitted wardrobe on Saturday, so there are clothes everywhere. I know people come to see you and not your house, but it is honestly at the point where I wouldn’t let people in.

Anyway, how’s the summer treated you?

My little house

How on earth are we hurtling towards the end of May already? I can’t believe it, January seemed to drag and now it’ll be the longest day before we know it and so far the things I have achieved in this big “year off to sort everything out and get my house and garden finished” is a big fat zero. Ok not actually zero, maybe 0.5 – I have managed to buy a pot to hang outside my front door, complete with plant to go in it, but it hasn’t yet made the journey from my Mum’s house back to mine so I am not holding my breath about it getting put up in the foreseeable future. I’ve also managed to buy the glass shelf for my bathroom which I first looked at and considered buying 2 years ago. But I haven’t found the motivation to put the shelf up…

Actually, that’s not completely true. It’s not the motivation which is missing. It’s my Dad.

This is the house we built, and I don’t know how to go on building it without him here. I want to. I want to achieve everything we talked about, and make my little home the home we both knew it could be. But he isn’t here to do it with me, and instead  find myself aimlessly starring at wall plugs wishing I could check with him that I have picked up the right one. So I put it back in the box, and put my glass shelf on one side to be looked at another day when I can find someone to help me.  But I never get to finding that day or contacting that person.

I love my little house and I want to finish it. But I am also scared to. S is looking at houses, he will be moving out in a few months time, but all of the houses he is looking at are being assessed not just for his needs right now, but for renting potential for when we move in together properly in a few years time. I know this should excite me, but when we talk about it I also realise that that means I have a few years left in my little house and then I have to leave it…. and I don’t want to.

What I want is to take my little house, pick it up and move it to somewhere where I can stretch it out a bit and give it bigger rooms. Maybe fit in another bedroom and a bigger kitchen. A dining room would be nice, and I would love to have my own private garden where I can put the bins where I want without having to worry about how my neighbours will put their bins out. I would also give myself a drive and a front garden…. I’m not after Buckingham Palace but it would be nice to have a little more room.

But to get more room I have to leave.

I know, I know, I can hear you all telling me off as I type this “this is a long way in the distance” and “you never know what the future holds” … and you are right, but I do know that that future does not hold any new memories about my Dad and I hate that.

Every since I was a child I have tried to put off stuff I don’t like. I would stay up to the early hours, pretending that if I didn’t fall asleep tomorrow couldn’t come whenever I was apprehensive about something, and I still do that as an adult sometimes. I want to finish my house and have it clean and tidy, without tools hanging around. But doing that, without Dad is something I am not looking forward to and so I am putting it off until tomorrow, but then, just as I did when I was a child and would wake up stressed and shattered, I am waking up the next day regretting my actions, or lack there of.